Insight
by Rebel-Angel-Hero
Summary: A sort-of sequel to "Alone." Davin, years after she was adopted by a family of Night Furies, lives in secret on Berk, watching and studying the Viking Village, and one young Viking in particular has caught her interest. Warning: a fluffy rabbit dies.


**This is sort of my sequel to "Alone." It's more like a point in time in between "Alone" and **_**How to Train Your Dragon**_**- kind of an introduction to Davin and Hiccup. Just fyi, it's going to be chock full of bilingual-ness, with lots of Gaelic interspersed throughout. As before in "Alone," the translations will be at the end. But whatever. Read on!**

* * *

The girl made nary a sound as she hid herself behind a tree, sliding an arrow from her quiver. The rabbit sat on the ground, nose twitching as it ate its meal of grass, seeds, and berries. She silently notched the arrow and pulled the bowstring taught, took careful aim, and let the arrow fly. Her longbow launched the arrow faster than her shorter one would, and the arrow whistled through the air and snagged the small animal, mercifully killing it before it could even realize what had happened. Taking less care in the sounds that she made, she walked over and pulled her arrow out of the rabbit, cleaning off the projectile's point and sliding it back into the quiver. With a sense of pride, she trekked back to her home, carrying her dinner.

She couldn't be older than thirteen or fourteen, yet she held herself with a responsible, mature air belonging to someone several years her senior. Her thick, curly black hair, tied back by a length of rope, was held out of her face by a thin leather strap bound around her head; mismatched eyes- one a deep violet, one a sundry swirl of blue, green, and gray- peered out from underneath loose curls. Her clothes were worn and motley, mostly a makeshift outfit that served its purpose and not much else. The tunic she'd come to the island in she still had, in some form or another; when she outgrew it as a tunic, she made it into a vest; when she outgrew _that_, she cut it up to be otherwise useful. "Waste nothing" was her policy, especially since she had nothing that she could afford to waste. Anything she needed she had either made herself- like her bows and arrows- or stolen from the other people on the island. As a result, she had few possessions other than certain necessary material things, and the few personal things her mother had left her- a ring, a necklace, a language, some songs, and a name.

After about a year or two of living on the island, Davin had learned of the village on the side opposite of the one she had landed on. At first she had felt torn between her desire for human company- not that her dragon family wasn't more than enough- and her now natural sense of distrust and hesitancy, which had come of months of living with dragons, who counted self-preservation among their primary instincts. This, however, was only natural, as the village of Vikings on this island- which she had learned was called Berk- regularly slew dragons. The Night Fury, granted, had less to fear than other dragons, as no Viking, despite several attempts, had come even close to capturing and killing the elusive menace of the dark, but caution was a necessity in their life- Davin had seen too many dragons blind-sided by a lucky bolas.

Drawn out of her train of thought by her approaching campsite, Davin smiled at the dark blue-black form by the fire. In the seven years she'd spent on the island- Berk, she reminded herself- Réalta had grown from the mere tadpole she'd been at their first meeting to an almost full-sized Night Fury well capable of taking a rider. And Davin, once Réa became strong enough, had quickly taken to that option. They could move quickly around Berk now, rather than the relatively slow pace Davin's human capabilities restricted them to, making their nomadic lifestyle an easier task, and Davin could have the most thrilling experience of her life, the fulfillment of a long-sought-after dream, every time she settled onto Réa's back.

"Oíche mhaith," Davin said as she approached the campfire. Réalta raised her head and let out a soft coo in greeting.

"I have dinnéar." Davin set the rabbit on the ground, pulled out her knife, and began gutting and cleaning it. The two sat in comfortable silence as Davin began preparing her meal. Réa had gathered her own food, as she was wont to do, so Davin didn't worry about feeding her Night Fury foster-sister (of sorts).

"I'll be heading to the taobh thall tomorrow," the girl said as she dug into her freshly-cooked meal. The evening sunlight had faded, and stars now twinkled above the sparking, dancing fire. "Do you want to come with me?"

Réalta gave the girl a condescending look, and Davin smiled sheepishly. "I guess it was stupid of me to ask," she admitted. "But you'll have to be quieter this time. You scared away every living thing within fiche slat fad of us." It was now Réalta's turn to look sheepish.

Davin smiled and patted the Night Fury. "No sense crying over spilled water. Let's get some sleep." She put the fire out, then settled herself in Réa's hold. The Night Fury wrapped her tail around the girl and folded her wing over Davin, creating a canopy that cut out the light of the night sky.

* * *

The next morning dawned cold and gray. Réa, thankfully, had started a new fire by the time that Davin was awake, and she groggily reached for a portion of last night's meal that she had saved for the morning. Once she'd eaten and properly woken up, they cleaned their campsite, put out the fire once again, and readied themselves to go, Davin packing what very few things she had into a small satchel that she secured to Réalta's back like a saddle bag; her bows and quiver, she strapped to her back. She grabbed hold of the length of rope looped around the dragon's neck, slipped her ankles through loops attached around the neck-loop, and, patting Réa's side, said, "Ceadaítair muid imitear." The Night Fury, with all the grace and power of her kind, shot into the sky. Davin would have fallen off, had it not been years of practice, training, and instinct and a handy length of rope keeping her securely on the dragon's back.

This was what she truly loved- the wind whipping through her hair (though admittedly she'd regret it later), the feeling of being on top of the world. Nothing compared to flying, and no flying compared to being on top of a Night Fury, king of dragons and master of the skies. She laughed in wild glee, throwing her head back and reaching her arms out, feeling the air fly through her fingers. Réalta, now gliding leisurely along the thermal air currents, banked gently, turning to the right and arcing around to the village side of the island. They dove down into the forest below, Réa landing gracefully in a small break in the dense trees. Davin untangled herself from the ropes and slid to the ground, landing with a quiet thump. She unattached the satchel and took it with her as she disappeared into the trees. She turned around and looked at Réalta, who was looking around the forest in an interested manner- not that she, like Davin, didn't know almost the whole island by heart- and called over her shoulder, "You can wander around, but don't get into any trioblóid, alright?" The Night Fury looked at her innocently, obviously already making plans of her own. Davin sighed exasperatedly, then continued on her original path.

* * *

Davin sat in a tree, eating her lunch, which consisted of a rabbit and a fish. Again, she didn't worry about Réalta, since the dragon was fully capable of finding her own food.

The tree that Davin currently sat in was near the edge of the forest that faced the sea; there was an outcropping of cliffs near her. She was here, mainly, because of one particular person who often frequented the spot.

When she'd first started watching the Viking village, she'd been equally scared, dismayed, and intrigued by what she'd found. The bustling village, a lone community on a small island surrounded by the vast sea, was both barbaric and inventive, a veritable oxymoron. Though their way of life was mainly ruled by the warrior way, a person's usefulness and status determined by how many dragons he or she had killed, they had innovative ways of living. They were a stubborn, determined people who, though others might leave, refused to be ousted by their enemies. And while Davin didn't condone their practice of slaying dragons, she recognized and respected their steely diongbháilteacht. And it was for these reasons that she continued to watch them, not just in the interest of self-preservation- she was not so stupid to recognize that, given the chance, they would readily kill Réalta and possibly her in the process- but also for the sake of her own inquisitiveness, to see what she could learn from them.

One person in particular drew her attention her most of all. He couldn't be much older than her- placing him at about thirteen or fourteen years old- and was strikingly different from the rest of his tribe. While Vikings were mainly a big and burly lot who were more concerned with fighting than thinking, he was a scrawny, somewhat short boy who seemed to be more willing to think something through. After first noticing him, she'd found out that his name was Hiccup- a strange name, she had thought- and that he was the chief's son. But he didn't seem to get treated like she thought a chief's son would- rather, the villagers either regarded him with disapproval, annoyance, and downright contempt, or simply ignored him. He struck her as a lonely kid.

However, after a while, she'd managed to find this, one of the many spots he visited in the forest, and often shadowed and studied him. He definitely had more brains than brawn, and his ingenuity and cleverness never ceased to amaze her. He always had a little notebook with him that he wrote or drew in, often sitting hunched over for long periods of time, scribbling away on its blank, inviting pages. Sometimes he sat and watched the world go by; sometimes he sat and scratched in the dirt- it was those times, she had begun to notice, that he was usually angry or upset about something.

Sure enough, Hiccup came trotting through the forest, padding in fur-lined boots over the springy undergrowth. His face was twisted into a scowl; his duille-glas eyes, chestnut hair falling over them, were narrowed in resentment. Noting his arrival, Davin silently twisted in the tree and turned to the boy, stowing the rest of her fish and climbing up a branch to avoid being seen. His feet scuffed through the dirt and he sat down on a rock with a huff, his back to her. His shoulders were tensed and his frame was hunched, his form practically screaming out his frustration. He pulled out his notebook and doodled aimlessly in it for a minute, then snapped it closed and threw it to the ground, dropping his head into his hands with a sigh.

"The gods hate me," he muttered forlornly. "Some people break their parents' things, or lose stuff- no, I manage to single-handedly plunge an entire village into chaos, light half the buildings on fire, and still not hit that Night Fury!"

Davin winced a little in sympathy for the chaos and fire bits. She had a feeling that he'd come here to escape the ridicule and scolding he'd inevitably endure at his home. She watched as he took a nearby twig and began to draw something in the dirt. She leaned forward a bit in order to see it better.

After a little while, the shape became clear enough to be a dragon. It wasn't like any dragon she'd ever seen, more like a mix of several- she saw elements of the Monstrous Nightmare, the Deadly Nadder, and the Hideous Zippleback in the drawing- but it was none the less a proud, graceful beast, that much she could see.

She sat back a little, watching him vent out his frustrations. Idly she wondered if, should he be faced by one, he might ride a dragon like she did with Réalta. She shook her head, smiling a little at the thought. He was a Viking, no matter how much he might be different from the others of his village, and Vikings and dragons had long been enemies. But the thought persisted in her mind, and she sat there, watching him as she envisioned him astride a dragon- perhaps even a Night Fury like Réa.

**

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Muahahaha! Foreshadowing! I am evil, I know.

**So, yeah. If Hiccup can make a freaking **_**bolas cannon**_**, I can have a bow and arrow if I want. Don't judge me.**

**I kind of see this as being sort of just before **_**How to Train Your Dragon**_**- like, maybe a few months or weeks before the events of the movie. The premise is that in all of the time that Davin's spent on Berk since the events of "Alone," she figured out that there were other people on the island. So she's been watching them in the interest of survival and curiosity (and, on occasion, "borrowing" [i.e. stealing] things like clothes, rope, etc. from the village's inhabitants), and Hiccup in particular interests her, mainly because he's so different from the others. That's pretty much it- I tried not to make her seem…stalkerish.**

**By the way, there's one fact I'm not too sure on- the continuity in how I described Davin's eyes. I've been deliberating of late, but I've pretty much settled on the differing colors. If that's not how I described her in "Alone," please notify me so I can change it!**

**Again, I've likely done a terrible attempt at translating Gaelic. I tried to make it simple this time around. See, Davin's mother was a Viking who had originally lived in Berk, but was captured by pirates. She ended up in northern Ireland and had Davin, so Davin ended up learning both Gaelic and Norse (as I assume that's the language that the Vikings are supposed to be speaking), and is trying to stay practiced in both. Here's what the Gaelic is supposed to read:**

**Oíche mhaith. – Good evening.**

**Dinnéar – dinner**

**Taobh thall – far side**

**Fiche slat fad – twenty yards (length)**

**Ceadaítear muid imitear. – Let us go.**

**Trioblóid – trouble**

**Diongbháilteacht – resolve (i.e. an unshakable will or resolve; determination)**

**Duille – leaf**

**Glas – green**

**Whew, that was long! Anyways, hope you like, and as always, reviews are love. :D**

**~RAH**


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